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Sevren Aveilan
DM Handle Kwom Masbag Description Eye Color: Bright jade green, with silver flecks in it. Moonstones in a small green pond. Hair Color: In the shadows or darkness, it looks a simple black. But when the light hits it, it's revealed to be a dark crimson. Height: 5'10 Weight: 160 lbs Age: 19 Place of Origin: Saldaea Stats Rank: Trainee Warder Weapon Score: 0 Paths and Disciplines: Not Chosen Yet Primary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet Secondary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet Tertiary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet History Cuendillar's reins would have been rough in Sevren's hands, but for the fine leather gloves adorning them. Of course, the gloves were similarly rough through year's of use, but the insides were more than passable. Far finer than what would be worn by any of the normal born citizens. But he was most definitely not an ordinary civilian. Well, that wasn't exactly true. His father and mother hadn't been of the high nobility of their respective countries--Saldaea and Andor--but they had been near enough middle nobility to allow him to own the finer things in life. Such as Cuendillar. Not many nineteen year olds had their own warhorse, nor one as finely bred. He wasn't the best, but he was among the better. Even if he was only half trained. A slight wind kissed his face, and he sighed contentedly. Or as contentedly as he could muster at this point. The last year and a half hadn't been the best times of his life. It had all begun when they had found out that his sister had the potential to be wield the One Power--to be an Aes Sedai. That revelation had been approximately thirteen years ago, when he had been eight. His mother, being from the nobility of Andor where the queen is traditionally sent to the White Tower to be trained, was absolutely thrilled and had spared no expense in sending her daughter off. She quickly moved up the ranks in the White Tower, and had been traveling home after being raised to the Green Ajah near enough three years ago when the worst had happened. His sister had been ambushed by a group of highwaymen while riding on the main road from Tar Valon to Saldaea, just north of the Black Hills. According to what the Sisters sent to investigate could find, she had been killed before she even knew that she was under attack, so the vow to do no harm unless feeling threatened hadn't even had the opportunity to be necessary. His sister hadn't had a Warder. An oddity amongst the Green, but perhaps she simply hadn't had the chance to find a suitable one. Perhaps if she'd had a Warder, she wouldn't have been torn from their family that day. Sevren sighed again, though this time with far more sadness to it. As he looked down, his left hand reflexively reached up to clutch the small dove-shaped locket with deceptively sharp talons--which had been his elder sister's symbol--sitting upon the almost fine silver chain sitting upon his neck. Tears nearly stung his eyes, but he fought them back, tooth and nail. It would be improper do show such a blatant emotion, even if his only witness was Cuendillar. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he started walking forward once again, leading the horse behind him; it wouldn't do to ride him to the ground, even if it meant more of a slow going. He wasn't in a hurry to reach his destination. His mother was absolutely devastated upon hearing the news. She soon was afflicted by a wasting sickness, and the Wheel wove her out of the Pattern within the month. Nevermind that she'd had him to attend for. Perhaps he had just not mattered as much to her as her Aes Sedai daughter. Had one thought his mother devastated upon hearing that news, his father was in not much better shape after losing both his daughter and wife within the same month. However, he was made of tougher stuff than Sevren's mother had been. At least, that was how it had appeared on the outside. His father soon became a much harsher taskmaster when it came to learning combat tactics and fighting skills. Sevren could take anything that his father threw at him, and indeed, it was much that was thrown at him. He was practicing with his sword at least four times per day; once at the crack of dawn, another before the hottest part of the day, another after, and finally after the sun was under the horizon. They would practice for at least two hours each time. By itself, it wouldn't have been that bad, but he also was made to learn horseback combat and bow combat. The horseback combat wasn't so bad; being Saldaen, Sevren was practically born upon the horse, but it was still not so lovely when combined with all of the other chores that had to be done around their manor house. His father hadn't believed in servants; they made one grow soft. This continued for three years, until his father decided to lead a foolish charge by himself into the Blight. Towards the end of his years, training Sevren had become something of an obsession for his father, and when he had realized that there was little else to teach him he must have thought any purpose he may have had gone. He had left Sevren alone, last of a house that, while it wasn't very powerful before, was now far more diminished than anybody would have liked to have seen it. The last remaining tokens of his house were born with the solitary figure on the road. His father's bow was affixed to the Cuendillar's right flank, along with a medium-sized quiver of arrows, while his father's sword was affixed to the left. However, he still had the sword that he trained with buckled onto his left hip; he had never truly been a fan of the serpentine blades favored by most of his people. The final two bits of his house's history, aside from the not modest amount of gold carried within his coat's pocket, were the two signet rings adorning the second and third fingers of his right hand; one bearing the falcon clutching a fish in its talons--that one being the house's seal, which was rather disturbing considering the emblem of Saldaea--and the other the falcon with a sword clutched in its beak, being his personal insignia. Sevren sighed again, though this time being quiet enough to not even attract the notice of the horse walking behind him. He would one day become a Warder. He would protect his Aes Sedai from any and all harm that would befall her. But most of all, he would ensure that no families would ever have to deal with the loss of their Aes Sedai relative, not like he had. After all, Aes Sedai were only human, no matter how they liked to pretend otherwise. Then again, so was he. Category:Warder Bios Category:Biographies Category:WS 0 Category:Trainee